Monday, January 20, 2014

[Spoilers, the biggest of which will be marked in situ. Also, I don't know why the images are different tones—they're from the same DVD played on the same laptop.]

It's 50-odd years old, but Saat Pake Bandha resonantes with realness. From its meet-ordinary (crankily, on a bus)

and passive-agressive glaring over newspapers

to its dissolution contained in a small apartment, lives are changed and ruined without any hint of spectacle or grandeur. The story suggests that, as in our world of non-scripted people and situations, the responsibility for its sadness is widely distributed. The central character, Archana (Suchitra Sen), is a bright student who marries teacher* Sukhendu (Soumitra Chatterjee) despite seeming to have reservations about him. I say "seeming" because I don't think there's any actual dialogue from her about her feelings for him before their marriage, and when her father picks up on their budding romance, her face does not exhibit any kind of pleasure or eagerness at the idea of marriage.

Sukhendu buries himself in claustrophobic work habits and is prone to easy slights and sulking.

Archana's horrifyingly snobby mother meddles in the young couple's daily lives and mental states. Her father, who knew Sukhendu when he was younger, is blinded by the idea of his daughter's happiness rather than thinking carefully about the probable reality of the couple's future. Sukhendu's aunt, who is his only non-professional relationship (he mentions no friends or other family), clearly babies him in the classic manner of older women and younger men in Indian films.

Of course this is advice for Archana, not for Sukhendu.

Before the fault lines in Archana and Sukhendu's life start to crack open, Saat Pake Bandha reminds me of Pride and Prejudice. Their second meeting is a party where Sukhendu is haughty and huffy when he thinks someone has disrespected him and Archana hides her laughter over his behavior. Archana plots and gossips with her sister—she mouths "bus se ruffian" to her sister as she indicates Sukhendu with her eyes—

and is much more fond of, and much closer to, her gentle, silly father than she is of her screeching, adamant mother. Like Mrs. Bennet, her mother is teased and dismissed by other members of the family

Archana signals her father that her mother is being dramatic again.

but is strongly motivated by wanting to establish the best life for her daughter. Her definition of what is best is not wholly in tune with Archana's priorities and she most certainly does not know when to let people identify and address their problems themselves.

In contrast to Lizzie Bennet, Archana seems not to recognize her own faults. As serious a flaw as this is for a character to have, I have to say it's thrilling to see a young woman presented this way. She is generally confident and looks people in the eye, and when she returns to school and seeks a job later in the narrative, she is successful. She doesn't apologize for anything and, even better, she expresses anger at both her mother and her husband to their faces. In the "now" portion of the film (the rest of it is flashback), she says no one understands her—implying that not only is she an individual who can be understood as a discrete entity but also that other people should try to do so. The flip side, of course, is that nothing is her responsibility. Look at these dialogues.

The above are all in arguments with Sukhendu.

This is addressed to her mother.

This is retrospection at the end of the film.

If this film has a villain, is it the heroine? Again, what an amazing difference that would be from the overwhelming proportion of film stories I've seen. These dialogues keep me from being completely sympathetic to Archana, but they also make her more empathetic—we've all tried to block out our own culpability in failing relationships. I wonder how this film resonated at the time of its release (1963). It's easy to imagine, then even more than now, educated women from happy, vibrant homes finding themselves in much constrained (and in this case, socially and economically lowered) circumstances after marriage feeling utterly trapped and bitter. We see at other points later in the story that Archana is perfectly capable of taking care of herself when she needs and wants to, and I am unclear why she doesn't demonstrate more thoughtful agency in her marriage.

[Spoiler!] Fascinatingly, she is also not rewarded for making the choice to try to recommit to Sukhendu after she moves out of their apartment. Here she is pounding against the silent door.

A film heroine being spurred by reminders of her marriage vows to beg a man to take her back is one thing; him not answering is quite another. I don't think I've seen a film (Hindi or Bengali) that resolutely lets marriage bonds and home break in such a way unmitigated by sacrifice for friend or country or other such noble factors. I do think the film is trying to show the power of formalized bonds (or vows?), but I'm less sure that it says bonds are the same thing as actual relationships or the people in them. If you have seen this film, can we discuss what to make of what the new resident of the apartment tells Archana and what this says about the film's attitude about women's individuality, choices, and responsibilities? [End spoiler.]

The home is an important concept in this film. Archana and Sukhendu smile together in their home very rarely; they are happier, freer, in moving vehicles and while traveling.

Sukhendu has interesting dialogues about this: he tells her early on that he didn't see her clearly until he returned home from the party and opened his window, and on their honeymoon he says that his dream before meeting her was to travel the country, "with just a bag around my shoulder. Like a modern day gypsy who is out to touch all of history." To me, this indicates a person who shouldn't be a householder, to be responsible to anyone else. I know, I know, social conventions, etc., but maybe he could have waited at least until he'd made a few more big trips? Sukhendu also much prefers interacting with Arcahana at home to socializing with her family, and I don't think the couple ever goes out socially on their own (to the movies, etc.). The flat they live in when married is the same one he had when single, adding another layer to the sense that Sukhendu is somehow intruded upon by the decision to get married and that Archana is ultimately foreign, maybe even an invader. Again, this is not a person who is ready to share or alter his life. The smiling moments at home are only in the beginning of their marriage. Soon the two are sleeping in separate rooms and avoiding eye contact.

After my second watching of this film, I think I would label Sukhendu as a person unable to sustain emotional engagement or stand up to the interference and judgement of a community (note his disregard for the rules and public opinion on the bus the first time we see him). He's probably an introvert at a massive scale, drained by the very presence of other people, preemptively defensive of what they might think of him. If he and Archana had their own house away from all their relatives and with separate bedrooms, they might have had a shot. As is, in 1960s Calcutta, with family and neighbors and not enough literal or figurative space for Archana to have her own life as well, they are doomed.

Director Ajoy Kar (seen on this blog at Saptapadi and my beloved Barnali) fills the film with little points of comparison that highlight these characters' success and failures, their moments of bravery and withdrawal. My favorite, which I only noticed on my second viewing, is Sukhendu's little dialogue about first seeing Archana clearly when he wasn't even in her presence but instead at home in front of his open window, which is bookended late in the film by Archana running away from their flat to her parents' house and flinging open a window, I think implying that she too, after time passing, has seen things clearly. Two parties to celebrate exam results also mark the beginning and end of their relationship. Her simple domestic yet caring task of mending and smoothing down his kurtas shows their teamwork at the beginning of their marriage,

but over time there is less tenderness between them in the action, and later she literally rips his shirt in frustration at his misunderstanding of her actions and ignoring of her needs, leading to the scene that a fellow Soumitra fan sent me before I'd even heard of the film.

How many heroines get to do this?

And in one of the images above you see part of an exchange the two have about Sukhendu's persona in their lives in Calcutta: she says there he wears a mask, but on their travels she has seen him without it for the first time and begs him to leave the mask jettisoned. He tells her is she ever sees him with it on at home, she can "rip it off mercilessly"—which, as just mentioned, she does, and he then the costumers leave him that way, battered, exposed, maybe even ruined.

This is such a well-constructed film that even if I didn't find anything special in the story or performances, I would earnestly recommend it. Happily, there is so much to appreciate and think about. Soumitra Chatterjee is a sort of flip side of the bookish, quiet, thoughtful character he plays in many other films from the early and mid 60s, making Sukhendu into a fragile, inflexible person who, instead of being a villain, is devoid of intention towards the woman he has chosen to bond himself to. Suchitra Sen, who even in the handful of films I've seen her in has had moments of sheer lunacy in the ACT!ING! department, is wonderful, showing range without excess and strength without overpowering the other actors, the story, or the characters' context. She comes across as old enough to be figuring out how to be an adult but young enough that her stumbles seem natural. I do not know the names of the women who play the aunt and mother, but they too are very good, showing the falsely benevolent and viciously deliberate faces of interference. Pahari Sanyal is probably my favorite Bengali film uncle**, and he makes Archana's father believably tender, with the moments of emotion and weakness that softness can entail. Careful attention is given to design, describing the two major sets (Archana and Sukhendu's flat and Archana's family's home) with story-appropriate artifacts, some of which even become major symbols. All of this comes together in perfect support of a story that shows dissolution with so much dimension and so poignantly.

To end, a bit of happy-making juxtaposition: Soumitra Chatterjee, the best thing since sliced bread.

* He's not her teacher, fortunately.
** I do not consider Robi Ghosh an uncle. He's a full-on star in my world. Utpal Dutt too, of course.

9
comments
:

Lovely review. They made ''Kora Kagaz' in Hindi, but I think that just plodded along, specially with Vijay Anand in huge main role. I can imagine this film as being much more nuanced, and interesting. And yes,of course, Suchitra Sen and Sumitra. Must get it,

I think the last dialogue, if I remember can be better translated as:"Everyone holds me responsible (or blames me) for something or the other that happened in this relationship. Whom will I blame (or whom would I say was responsible) for what happened to me?"She says this as the tenant/husband's friend that she meets at their ex-home says something like 'A great student and learned person like Sukhendu's future was wasted and for this, I would hold you responsible'. Hence the follow up comment. I believe in the present tense, close to when the movie starts, she is shown reading a letter which talks about 'holding her resonsible' too, but I watched this when I was barely out of my teens and that was almost two decades back, so don't remember other things.

It is the word 'responsible' for sure that was said in Bengali, but the translation sometimes needs to go beyond that :), as you very wel have experienced many times.

sounds interpreting, could you send a link of where to buy a copy of this film on DVD? Also I'm still a new comer to Bollywood Cinema and was wondering if you could recommend some adventure films to check out( around the 1970s 1980s range)

Batul - I hope you do get a chance to see this! I'm desperate to discuss it with people! I need to see the Hindi one just for completion.

Aparna - This is great input! The subtitles did a good job with the exchange at their former house, at least. I was stunned that a stranger would say that to her!

Gialloman - I bought my copy in Calcutta, so I don't have a particular in for online sources for this beyond the usual induna.com. As for 70s and 80s adventure…gosh, I'd say go straight for the films of director Manmohan Desai, which aren't exactly straight-up adventure (since most of the categories we use for US films, for example, don't apply in the context of Indian popular cinema) but will give you a dash of that, perhaps. The "Masala Zindabad | Recommended Masala Allowance" tag on my blog will also lead you to some rollicking good fun films.

"...when her father picks up on their budding romance, her face does not exhibit any kind of pleasure or eagerness at the idea of marriage."Beth, I love your blog, but this assessment is incorrect. Back in the 1960s, an educated girl with a spine may tell her progressive dad that she likes a boy, but she's not gonna be mushy. The expression reflected Suchitra's character. Of course, she's head over heels in love with Soumitro but she's not going to smile, blush and run away in girlish joy.

"...when her father picks up on their budding romance, her face does not exhibit any kind of pleasure or eagerness at the idea of marriage."Beth, I love your blog, but I think this is an inaccurate assessment. Suchitra plays an educated city girl with personality in the 1960s, and if her progressive father is saying he approves her choice of a boyfriend, she's not going to blush in girlish shyness and run, nor is she going to hug him like a Sixties Bolly daddy's girl. she's being herself, she's quietly ecstatic that her dad understands her choice.

Hi Unknown - Thank you for sharing your interpretation. I understand what you're saying, and of course I agree that the world depicted in this film is quite different than those typically depicted in similar era Hindi films - and that the acting styles, writing, etc. are different too.

But what I can see in the film still leads me back to the opinion stated in this post. It's not just a matter of Suchitra's character being reserved or not looking ecstatic - to me, she looks actively unhappy. Hesitation would also make sense given the bumpy path the two have had towards getting to know one another - he certainly comes off as someone who isn't easy to love, and an independent, confident person like she is might well be aware that the road ahead might not be smooth either.

Also, she _does_ express happiness in other situations, and it seems curious that she wouldn't do so if she feels happy in conjunction with such a big life event, especially in conversation with the parent she's emotionally closer to. However, I recognize there may be language that says otherwise that I can't understand due to bad subtitles or because of my generally incomplete familiarity with the culture depicted.

In a perfect world, though, I'd hope you're right - that this character did actually look forward to this big step in her life.

Suchitra Sen is one of finest actress in Bollywood. Suchitra Sen's international success came in 1963, when she won the best actress award at the Moscow International Film Festival for the movie Saat Paake Bandha, becoming the first Indian actress to receive an international film award. There is a scene in Saat Paake Bandha where Suchitra Sen has to tear the vest that Soumitra is wearing. Later, at a party thrown to celebrate the film's success, she did a repeat of the scene and tore Soumitra's shirt, much to the amazement of those present. Something that no one but her, could have even imagined doing in that age

Bong Along: a blog on vintage Bengali movies co-written by Indie Quill and me (and perhaps a few very friendly appearances by other friends as well).

Masala Zindabad: the podcast by Indie Quill and me, often featuring other writers and fans as guests. Masala Zindabad is an affectionate and thoughtful look at the broad range of themes that define Bollywood and make Bollywood defy definition. Available at iTunes.

The Cultural Gutter : my work on Indian cinema at a site dedicated to thoughtful writing about disreputable art.

Order of the Skeleton Suit: the Agents of M.O.S.S. are a shadowy confederation of like-minded writers, broadcasters, creators, and jetsetters who have banded together in a bold mission to bring international intrigue and pop entertainment to the masses. Can anyone stand in the way of their diabolical schemes?

get posts by email

pragmatics

Text (c) 2005–2016, Beth Watkins. The ideas and opinions expressed in this site are mine alone unless otherwise attributed. They do not necessarily represent the views of my employer or of any other organization or website with which I may be associated.